"Tangerine!" by Amanda Prowse

No 13 "HAIR OF THE DOG!"

“HAIR OF THE DOG!”

I remember once reading an article about a woman who lived in the wilds of Alaska. She spent her days in the winter months hunting and gathering all she needed to survive and by night, went to bed with her dogs. I skim read about her skill in capturing her food, was briefly mesmerized by the images of snow and more snow in the most stunning of barren landscapes. No, the thing that really struck me was that this woman SLEPT WITH HER DOGS! Did I read that correctly people? I don’t mind telling you that the thought made me gag.

DOGS! IN HER BED! Stinky, hairy creatures with poo particles on their bum, drooly, germ-laden mouths, runny noses, farty bottoms and grubby paws – FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HOW COULD SHE STAND TO HAVE THEM IN HER BED!! At the time I had a passion for starched white bedlinen and just the thought of having a dog anywhere near it, let alone, on it or IN it, was enough to bring me out in hives. A disproportionate amount of time was dedicated to plumping the pillows and smoothing the top sheet. Just in case “Country Homes and Interiors” magazine decided to nip into my grotty flat unexpectedly for a photoshoot. It never happened.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love dogs, always have, always will. But I love dogs in their basket downstairs and not upstairs where the humans go to sleep, in their pristine, germ and poo particle free beds (well, relatively!)

When our new dogs came home to make our family complete; two French Bulldogs called “Dame Dottie Doolittle” and “Mademoiselle Beau Baudelaire”, my husband and I were in complete agreement that whilst we would welcome them, love them, care for them in every way and treat them with nothing but respect. They would not be allowed upstairs, no siree! And we were firm on the fact that they would never, ever set paw in our bedroom – just the thought enough to make me feel a little nausea.

They arrived one cold night in the depths of winter. Wrapped in a blanket that had been their mom’s, peeping out of the folds with big eyes, little faces blinking and nuzzling close to each other for reassurance and quite frankly, one look at them and my one remaining ovary almost exploded with motherliness, as if I myself had given birth to them.

Other people might have dogs, but had they ever felt like this? Surely not! These were not mere dogs, they were furry baby pups, and I was there mumma! It was definitely love at first sight.

My husband, sons and I took it in turns to hold them, stroke them, chat to them, look them in the eyes and make promises of how they might be missing their furry mom, but we would never let any harm come to them, we would keep them safe, warm, and well fed.

That first night we popped the mommy blanket in their comfy fur-lined dog bed and placed them next to each other where they automatically formed a yin yang shape – nestled against each other chin on the bum of the other. Having never been apart, even in the womb, they each seemed to know how to comfort the other.

We left a night light on, retreated quietly, only to hear the sound that would change everything. They were crying, not loudly, but more of a quiet whimper that sounded, to my ears at least, a lot like, “where are you going Mumma, please don’t leave us!” And quite frankly that was the beginning of the end.

I rushed back into the room, scooped them up in my palms along with their little dog bed and plonked it on our mattress. The plan was to ease them into family life and then transfer them downstairs. My husband and I curled around it, checking on them hourly and holding hands over their soft, velvety heads at how happy we felt.

You know what happens next! I don’t need to spell it out! But for the sake of confirmation, let’s jump forward three years. My furry princess daughters no longer fit into the palm of my hand. They are solid units, 13kg each. They quickly outgrew the little pup bed and discovered it was warmer if they lie alongside a toasty human at night. I am that human.

Sometimes they sleep curled up, but just as often they slumber like drunken starfish, sprawled in the middle of the bed. And my friend, I am ashamed to tell you, that on more than one occasion, I have decamped to the floor because there wasn’t room for me. I know, I know, I can see your eye roll from here.

We found a solution. We bought a big bed. A very big bed. A giant bed! A bed that has three duvets on it, one for me, one for him, and one for “the girls”. It works.

So, there it is. I sleep with dogs in my bed. Stinky, hairy creatures with poo particles on their bum, drooly, germ-laden mouths, runny noses, farty bottoms and grubby paws and I have never slept better. They give me comfort and warmth. They are a wonderful security system, barking (rarely) at any odd bumps in the night. I sometimes wake with one having sidled over to my duvet and sleeping with her head on the pillow. To fold her plump little body next to mine is nothing short of blissful.

I don’t sleep half as well without them, who knew?

I suspect many of you will gag at this article, you may indeed skim read about all the positives of co-sleeping with your pets and only remember the repulsive thought of DOGS SLEEPING IN THE BED!  And I understand. But all I will say is this. Never say never…

For all things Amanda Prowse, to learn more about her books and to pre-order her new memoir “Women Like Us” head over to www.amandaprowse.com Thank You! X